


i've been waiting all my life

by neomeruru



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomeruru/pseuds/neomeruru
Summary: The night after the Cup of China, Yuuri learns something about Victor that surprises him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Friends! Hello! This is my new fandom! I usually draw but also there are words sometimes, because inking is boring and I start writing dialogue instead, and then instead of inking I've written 2200 words in a night! Great!!

_Beijing, 20XX_

Over the course of their careers, both apart and together, they'd become quite accustomed to the business of hotel rooms: the permutations of wifi passwords, the placement of light switches, the ebb and flow of people and luggage and flights and taxi cabs in the dark hours. Yuuri barely needs to think any more as he wends his way around the luggage strewn from bathroom to bed, lit only through the blue city lights that filter through the room's curtains. Victor unpacks like he's always had a coach and support staff to clean up his messes; now it's just the two of them.

Victor stirs as he draws closer, and makes a discontented noise when he dips the edge of the mattress down with his knee. "I'm surprised you're still awake," Yuuri murmurs, running his hand up the naked curve of Victor's thigh. In his other, a damp cold washcloth.

"Too sticky," Victor complains, eyes still closed. "Give me the cloth."

Yuuri smiles and wrings it out over Victor's stomach.

"A-ah!" Victor shoots up and grabs the washcloth from Yuuri, hissing and scrubbing to catch the cold drops of water and their spend at the same time.

Yuuri sits down fast on the edge of the bed, bouncing Victor a little as he pouts and scrubs. "That's what you get for making me get up," he chides gently as he takes the washcloth, dabbing at a spot Victor was consistently missing, up on his chest. "You'd think a figure skater could handle a little cold."

Victor snorts and leans back, perfectly on display, letting Yuuri lean in and wipe away the rest. "I learned to clean up my messes," he says, watching Yuuri with lowered eyelashes. 

Yuuri stifles a laugh, considering the state of the room. "Is that so," he says in Japanese, and leans in until his breath is cool on Victor's wet skin. Keeping eye contact, he licks up the last lingering traces of their spend - he can feel the leap of Victor's muscles underneath him, the tremble of his sharp intake of breath. When he's done he lifts himself up on his arms, looking down on Victor's open mouth. "Better?"

Victor licks his lips, a little laugh bubbling up. "I think so, yes. You're so surprising, Yuuri."

Yuuri wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's good to know I can surprise even you," he says, and rolls over to lie against Victor's side. "I need all the help I can get. You're good at surprising me too, Victor."

Victor's answer is a noncommittal noise and a kiss to his forehead, as they settle together in the hotel-crisp bed. The second bed hasn't even been touched, except to strip it for extra sheets. There's more than enough pillows to go around; Yuuri's come to accept that's just expected of hotels everywhere.

Eventually they find equilibrium: Yuuri almost on his stomach, head pillowed on Victor's shoulder with one arm over his chest and one leg thrown over one of Victor's. Victor runs his bare foot up Yuuri's smooth calf.

Yuuri hums contentedly, letting his eyes close. With the excitement of the Cup of China behind him, he feels more relaxed than he has in weeks. Even the social media coverage of their on-ice kiss doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. _The payoff is worth it_ , he thinks as he pulls Victor closer.

He expects Victor to relax eventually, but after a few minutes of holding him, he notices that Victor's still tense. There's something in the air, like when there's something that needs to be said. Like Victor's waiting for something else. Yuuri raises his head and sees Victor's eyes are still open, staring up at the ceiling.

"Victor? Is something wrong?"

Victor blinks and looks over at Yuuri, meeting his eyes. For a moment, Yuuri can see the thoughtful man behind those clear eyes, then: "Everything is fine," he says, too smooth. Victor's gaze is shuttered again. "I was just thinking... Yuuri, do you want to have sex?"

Yuuri stares at him and laughs a little awkwardly, feeling his face light up. How many times had he dreamed of Victor saying those exact words? "Like - right now?" he manages to squeak out.

"No, eventually."

"Y-yeah. I do," Yuuri stammers. "I'd like that a lot. If that's… you want to, right?"

A pause. Despite the sudden inexplicable pang of anxiety Yuuri feels rise in his gut, he can feel his mouth twist. Of course Victor would pause dramatically, just to make Yuuri sweat. He can see the answering smile on Victor's face, anyway; he's a horrible actor in private. "Of course," Victor finally demurs. "I… I want that too. When you think it's time."

It's all Yuuri can do to keep it together, but he manages. His fantasies have trained him for this moment. "So we'll pick up condoms and stuff tomorrow, then," he murmurs, shifting up to kiss Victor on the corner of the mouth, right over the curl of his smirk. "So we'll have them. For whenever."

Under his lips, he can feel the character of Victor's smile change. "Oh, is it that easy," Victor says, "Skating sweetheart Katsuki Yuuri, just pops into the corner store for condoms? You should hope Phichit and his camera aren't around."

Yuuri ducks his head into the crook of Victor's neck and huffs, just a breath that warms the space and makes Victor's skin damp against his lips. "Phichit would remind me to get lube. And have recommendations. It wouldn't be the first time."

The pause that ensues goes longer than just dramatics. "Oh, excuse me, _international playboy_ Katsuki Yuuri," Victor says, too lightly. "How many people have you been with, hmm?"

"Well, ah…" Yuuri stammers. He can feel all the blood rush to his face again, even though it's not exactly embarrassment he feels. "Well," he hedges, "Phichit and I, actually…"

"No!" Victor gasps, playfully.

Yuuri laughs and digs his fingers into Victor's side, making him squirm. "It wasn't serious! We spent a lot of time together in university, and we just… well, you know. How it is." Yuuri's voice breaks at the end, accidentally, and he covers his mouth. "Sorry," he apologizes, then shakes his head. "Sorry, I shouldn't apologize to you, of all people. You know how close you can get to other skaters."

"Mmmn," Victor hums, and pulls Yuuri in closer to his side.

Slightly mollified, Yuuri takes a deep breath. "Actually, Phichit's friend was my first, ah, real boyfriend, I guess? He set us up in second year. We were together about a semester and a half. And then there was that girl from music studies..."

"...the one who composed your program?"

Yuuri nods. "Yes, it didn't work out… she was actually really calm about it but… I felt so bad, I sort of… uh, ghosted her…" Which he still felt bad about, but at least she'd agreed to help him with his new free skate even though he didn't deserve it, after that. "And then instead of dealing with that, I went out with Phichit a lot after that and just met people? Through class, and, uh, other classes." He leaves out the nature of those 'other' classes; he didn't want to explain to Victor that Phichit had once convinced him to take a pole fitness class and, to the surprise of everyone, the barre prepares you pretty well for the pole. He takes a deep breath, counting in his head. "I guess… uh. Six? Or seven, maybe. Not more than ten in total, for sure."

He can feel Victor's neck craning as he looks down at the top of his head. His stomach sinks, unexpectedly. For a fleeting moment, he wonders hysterically if Victor might think that number was too high -- he'd never considered it, really, and it wasn't like he'd ever been ashamed about it before, but Victor always had had that way about him that made Yuuri desperate to see the best of himself from Victor's eyes.

He can hardly bear to look up to see the expression on Victor's face, but he does it anyway, wincing when he sees the open shock laid there. "You… you probably thought I was a virgin, right?" He laughs, self-conscious. "The whole 'eros' thing, the… pork cutlet thing… you thought you were playing a joke on me. Uh, surprise?"

Victor's look of shock softens, and he slides his cold hand up Victor's blush-warm cheek, fingertips nestling in his hair. "Never," he swears. "I've never seen you as a joke. Not since the first time I saw you."

"Oh," Yuuri breathes, and covers Victor's hand with his own. Together, they guide Yuuri's face in the near dark until they can kiss, their lips meeting uncertainly at first. Yuuri can feel Victor smile against his lips, the soft huff of his breath as they slot together, perfectly and imperfectly new. Victor's eventually the one to pull back, his thumb sliding up to stroke Yuuri's soft lips.

"I'm just…" Victor starts, then closes his mouth, taking a deep breath in and out through his nose. He eyes dart to the side, even as his lips quirk up at the edges. "I'm just glad one of us will know what he's doing, actually."

Yuuri almost misses it, still a little giddy after all this time when they kiss, part of his brain still dedicated to figuring out how to get more. He blinks, but the sentence doesn't parse - of course they would know what they were doing, Victor would --

It takes a few long seconds. "Oh," he says again, uselessly.

Victor's face falls in the ineffective silence, the streetlight shadows darkening under his eyes as he looks away slightly. "Say something else," he says, quietly. His hand, on Yuuri's back, is deceptively tense.

"I--" Yuuri stammers. "Wait. You've never -- you're a _virgin_?" he says, conspiratorially. "But you've been to the _Olympics_!" _Smooth recovery, Katsuki._

Victor is slow to answer. "You're the only person I've done... anything with," he admits, still looking away.

Yuuri's eyes drift down Victor's bare chest, to the balled-up hotel facecloth still damp and seeping into the white sheets. "Oh," he says, softly. "I'm sorry, I just… assumed. Wow. We really just... _went_ for it, didn't we?"

When Victor lifts his eyes to meet Yuuri's again, he's got a bit of that characteristic sparkle back. "So you're telling me I'm a natural? Wow," he croons, drawing out the 'wow' like a game show host.

Yuuri laughs and smacks Victor on the chest, which turns into a brief tickle fight for dominance. Victor may be taller, but he hasn't been in training for months and Yuuri has the benefit of doing nothing but, so Yuuri swiftly finds himself straddling Victor's stomach while Victor squirms and carries on dramatically underneath him.

"You're deflecting!" Yuuri accuses jokingly, shaking his finger in Victor's face. "You don't want to talk about it!"

Victor throws his arm over his face, looking aggrieved. With his other hand, he reaches out to cover Yuuri's face with his palm.

Yuuri grins and deflects Victor's grasping hand with his own, running it down down Victor's long arm until he can pin his wrist to the bed. The truth always seems to come from Victor more easily this way, he's learned. "But -- I could have sworn, you and Christophe?" He leans in, forcing Victor to peek out at him from under his arm. "You've never been with him? He's so…"

Victor makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, but his smile is fond. "The only thing I've been with Chris is _in trouble_."

Yuuri laughs and runs his knuckles down the delicate flesh of Victor's protecting arm, encouraging him to lay it on the bed alongside his head, like his other. Instead of taking his other wrist, he entwines the fingers of both hands with Victor's. "You're doing it again," he says.

"You see through me," Victor murmurs, arching his back seductively. Yuuri only grins and tightens his thighs around Victor's warm core, keeping him pinned like a butterfly. Or an ant under an unusually benevolent magnifying glass. Under his steady gaze, Victor folds easily. "He… he was my first kiss. My only, actually," he admits. "I wanted to take it further, but when I told him it would be my first time, he… didn't want to."

"Oh," Yuuri sighs. "Damn."

"Exactly," Victor mutters, and looks away again. "Chris is… one of the few people I've called a friend. And he's a good man, under everything else. I thought… I thought he would understand, but of course, he understood too well. He didn't want to be my best and only option. He knew he couldn't live up to it."

Yuuri makes a sympathetic noise and slides his hands from Victor's wrists to under his body, wrapping him in a hug. His head fits into Victor's neck like this too, and he kisses there just because he can. "I'm sorry," he says. "Even though it sort of led you to me."

Victor's hands come to rest in Yuuri's hair, carefully carding it between his fingers. "He was right. It's been… worth the wait," he says, softly. He squeezes Yuuri to his chest, then, in a lighter tone: "Besides, he told me that if things didn't work out with you, he'd finally degrade himself to relieving me of my burden."

Yuuri's head shoots up, but Victor's already tightened his arms around him so he can't move much further. "You're both jerks!" he exclaims, laughing. He purses his lips and bats his eyelashes. "Victor," he says, in a passable imitation of Chris's Swiss accent, "Let me heal your heart after that cruel boy threw you out of his bed when he learned the truth!"

Victor makes a noise that's almost as undignified as a snort. "Oh, Chris!" he says, higher-pitched than usual. "Your mature sex appeal is what I wanted all along! Kiss me!"

They get halfway through the kiss before Victor giggles into Yuuri's mouth, which sets both of them to laughing until Yuuri can feel tears fall down his cheeks.

When Victor lets him up, Yuuri sighs and wipes his eyes. "He'll be disappointed," he says.

"Will he?" Victor opines, blotting his cheek daintily with the heel of his hand. "You're the one who's going to have to, ah..." he trails off. There are some concepts that don't meet in English between Russian and Japanese.

Yuuri puts his hand on Victor's chest, using the other to cover his own heart. "It will be my honour to teach you everything I know," he says, with all the solemnity he can muster. Which is, apparently, not a lot, because within seconds they're both laughing again, and they don't stop until Yuuri flops over so they can lie beside each other, this time with Victor curled against his back. His breath stirs the hairs on the back of Yuuri's neck.

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor's where it drapes over his chest, stroking his forearm lightly with his fingertips. "Hey, Victor," he says, and Victor hums in interest. He thinks on his words. "Why haven't you? I mean, I'm not the only one who…"

 _Fell in love with you_ , he thinks, but that thought belongs to old Yuuri, the one who idolized Victor. That old Yuuri doesn't deserve the Victor that's pressed against his back now, his lips soft against the knob at the top of his spine. He's not ready to let the old Yuuri claim what he'd wanted so badly, what he deserves now.

"...who was attracted to you," he finished, gamely. He's glad Victor can't see him wince at such a lame resolution.

Victor's arms tighten around Yuuri, and he turns his head to press his cheek against Yuuri's shoulder to speak. Even then, it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts. When he does speak, his voice is quiet and directed inwards, as if reciting something he'd already thought to himself. "When I was training under Yakov, there was simply no time. I was selected from a young age to be built into his champion. I never had the chance to… experience that part of my life."

He runs his hand down Yuuri's arm, taking his hand and holding it in his against Yuuri's chest. "As a skater as well, you know that when you skate at that level, everything you do is because you're destined for gold - the moment you step away, there's… no coming back. There's always someone who's trained just as hard, who's made the same sacrifices, waiting for you to make a mistake. Even among other skaters in my club, I had to fight to be the best. And I wanted to be the best, even if it meant being the vessel for his dreams, so I sacrificed everything for it."

Victor sighs, and rubs his cheek against Yuuri's shoulder. "And when I started winning gold, when I could have argued that I should pursue my heart, it was already too late. Even though I did start to rebel against Yakov, I had already become Victor Nikiforov, _the world's greatest figure skater_ ," he intones without a trace of irony, sounding like a newscaster. Yuuri blushes to recognize his own hero worship. "Who would see me, and not the man Yakov had made? And at twenty-seven and at the top of a career built upon being desired, what did I have to offer someone who expected me to know what I was doing?"

Yuuri thinks back to his room, covered in posters of Victor, and for once feels like he knows exactly what Victor means. How often had he fantasized about Victor at night, knowing him only as an object of desire? And how wrong he'd been; how deep and rich the texture of Victor's love really was, how beautiful his flaws in person.

He picks up Victor's hand and kisses the knuckles, rubbing his lips over them lightly. "I don't expect you to know what you're doing," he whispers, placing one more kiss in the center of Victor's palm. "I just want you to be here with me."

"Hmph," Victor huffs, and Yuuri can feel his lips curl against his shoulder. "Thank you."

Outside, a light sputters and goes out for the night. The street a few stories down is quiet, save for the occasional car -- it's late, and Yuuri feels the pull of sleep come for him finally. Even Victor's arm is getting heavier, his breathing getting deeper. Just before sleep comes over him, he reaches out and runs his hand over the nightstand, fetching his phone. The charging cable unfurls noisily around hotel-branded pens, paper, and empty glasses as he pulls it to his face so he can see it without squinting.

The bright light of the screen makes Victor wince, and Yuuri apologizes quietly as Victor grumbles and ducks his head behind Yuuri's. "What are you doing?" he mumbles into Yuuri's hair.

"I'm just texting Phichit," Yuuri says.

Victor pops his head over Yuuri's to see what he's writing, hissing at the glare. "You're not telling him, are you?"

Yuuri turns enough so he can brush Victor's cheek with his lips. "Of course not! I value his recommendations."

"You just want him to know you're going to have sex," Victor grouses, covering the screen of Yuuri's phone with his hand. He fumbles with it until they both hear the click and the light vanishes. Yuuri slides it under the pillow.

"So what if I do?" he asks. "The whole world already hates me for stealing you. I may as well enjoy what's mine."

The shiver he feels run through Victor is a little triumph in itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me [on Tumblr](http://chaoslindsay.tumblr.com) for more Yuri on Ice stuff!


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